


a xylophone set on automatic

by Vulpeccula



Category: Hermitcraft, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, and because im me i thought 'how about angst', anyway if i make more chapters expect more hermits, brief descriptions of violence, i really never upload my writing but i thought i'd give it a shot, i wrote this shortly after finishing the civil war arc, psuedo war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-03-20 04:59:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18985762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpeccula/pseuds/Vulpeccula
Summary: Hermitcraft Civil War, but...a bit more angst and distrust.





	1. Chapter 1

Grain stood cautiously, clammy hands gripping the staff of his trident, as wide eyes glanced behind and before him. The message from Doc wasn’t exactly, threatening, but it was subtle enough to cause unease, no matter if he had agreed to a lack of fighting. Still, the builder held his trident close and shifted under the plates of his armor, glancing up at the thin layer of earth that detached him from the blue sky above. 

With the sudden click of footsteps accompanied by murmuring voices, Doc emerged from behind the faulty wall. Grian had avoided investigating it when he had arrived underground, refusing to test his luck in the tense situation. The taller man walked fully into sight, armor glistening under the low lighting from the sporadic torches, in his own hand was a trident similar to Grians’ and in matching fashion he rested it by the end of its staff before him. 

“Doc” Grian nodded, glancing briefly to the faulty wall. 

“Grian.” Doc responded. He had no chest plate covering his bare chest, muscles flexing slow under his sturdy breathing. 

“What can I do for you?” Grian swallowed his uncomfortableness, standing straight, though Doc still stood tall over him. 

Doc tilted his head to the side, eyes nearly rolling as if he was unimpressed. Grian frowned at the action, but watched carefully as Doc lifted his trident, beginning a slow pace in the small confines of the underground bunker. 

“I will admit, the trick was intriguing.” Doc cooed, eyes on the stone floor “but it was always off since the beginning. It made no sense for Mumbo to side with us.” 

Grian felt every muscle in him tense and his throat run dry. He closed his eyes tight for a moment. Of course they had found out, it was such a dumb plan, too risky. 

“He didn’t even want to be involved.” Grian swallowed, glaring up through his lashes “it was my plan, if you want revenge seek it out on myself or G team, leave Mumbo out of this.” 

Doc clicked his tongue, shaking his head in the slightest fashion, making his one red eye glow. “It’s too late for that, Grian.” 

Before Grian could properly react through curses and taunts, Doc lifted his trident quickly once more and let it drop swiftly down, making a metallic clang on the hard stone floor. Grian’s panicked eyes flutter as more footsteps approach from behind the wall, then Ren appeared dragging Mumbo along. 

Grian tried to convince himself it was red stone staining the collar and chest of his friend, but there was no ignoring the long trail of blood from his cut open brow that was leaving an unsightly trail down his bruised face. 

The builder flared his teeth like a wild wolf, quickly hoisting his trident up, ready to tear Doc and Ren to pieces all on his own. 

“Steady, G.” Doc smirked, gesturing his own trident forward “no combat.” 

“Yea that was before you dragged my friend out here, you sod!” Grian barked 

“Consider it a lesson!” Ren raised his voice over the commotion, hoisting Mumbo up by his arm. The technician looked miserable, the sight making Grian waver. “We don’t want him anyway.” 

Ren abruptly thrusted Mumbo forward towards Grian, the blonde dropping his weapon in favor of quickly collecting his friend in his grip, buckling his knees to prevent the wounded from clattering to the floor like his forgotten weapon. 

“So you can take your dirty mole.” Doc hummed, pacing past Grian to swiftly take his abandoned trident. 

“But remember this.” Doc hissed, tone changing as he used the sharp tips of Grian’s own trident to point them to the smaller man’s throat, keeping his chin up and eyes on his own. “Try anything like this again, and you and whomever else you rope into your little scheme won't be so lucky. Understood?” 

Grian swallowed carefully around the blades at his throat, nodding delicately at Doc, gripping Mumbo a bit tighter. 

Doc followed with a smirk, retracting the trident and confidently tossing it to Ren. Ren smiled as well, using his free hand to salute the two plastered to the floor as he and Doc sauntered back from where they came. Grian held his breath, listening to the footsteps retreat, until his thoughts were disrupted by a hoarse voice close to his chest. 

“I’m sorry, Grian.” Mumbo groaned, sounding disappointed and disgusted even though he leaned heavily into his friend.

“Christ no, no apologies from you.” Grian grumbled “this is my fault, you hear me?” 

Mumbo opened his mouth as if to counter, but in the end had no chance against the sound of Grian’s heart hammering away in his chest. 

“Now we’re going home.”

The walk back to the G Team base felt as though it only took seconds, even though Grian had to support Mumbo’s weight each step of the way. Turns out his damage was much worse than a few unsightly cuts and bruises to his face. Moving Mumbo was an absolute pain to the technician, his stomach and ribs bruised from kickings and his knees sore from being tossed to the floor too many times to count. Still, they made it. 

Before either had the chance to open the base’s hidden entrance the pistons buried in the walls seemed to activate themselves, revealing a worried Iskall standing in their open armory. 

“What in the world happened!” Iskall exclaimed, ushering the two indoors before the doors automatically shut on them. “What happened to Mumbo? Why is he even here, Grian?”

“It’s my fault, it’s my fault!” Grian shouted in turn, allowing Iskall to take Mumbo’s weight from his shoulders “I hired Mumbo as a mole and he got caught.”

“A mole? Are you insane, Grian!” Iskall cursed, irritation growing in his voice. “This is a war, not just some silly game!”

“Hey enough.” Mumbo groaned, placing his hand on Iskall’s chest “it may have been Grian’s plan, but I agreed to it.” 

Iskall held his breath for a long moment before letting it escape through his nostrils. Fingers from his right hand coming to pinch the bridge of his nose as some tension left his shoulders. 

“Fine. Fine.” The Swede sighed. “I’ll have Cleo patch Mumbo up, you go get him some fresh clothes. I need to get back to lookout.” 

“Okay.” Grian nodded, removing his helmet and letting the messy hair lay as it pleased. He’d end up flying to Mumbo’s base anyway. 

The guilt ate away at the Builder’s thoughts as he flew slowly towards the shopping district, the numerous lights bouncing off the horizon and rolling hills in his way. The sky, luckily, was clear, scattered with distant stars and no phantoms to be heard. Yet, luck could only go so far. Grian came to that conclusion as he used his last rocket to haphazardly glide himself into the shops. 

Nearly each store was boarded up and closed, empty for weeks on end due to the ongoing war. Grian could barely even recall how the whole thing started. Some silly pranks turned sinister it seemed, someone somewhere snapped and now it felt as if life would never return to normal. 

He tried to not let it bother him as he landed near the rocket shop, elytra wings gently closing themselves against the builder’s back. 

“Hey there, Grian.” A voice murmured. 

Glancing ahead of him stood the duo ConCorp. Scar’s weight leaning lazily against one of the few trees in the shopping district, a small pouch of glow-stone dust in his hand, casting just enough light to illuminate his face. Though it was Cub who had spoke, who sat on the other side of the pathway to Scar, lounging on a boulder and lazily tossing another pouch of glow-stone dust up and down, causing a small illumination to leak from the sack. 

ConCorp had a strange stance in the war. They seemingly wanted no part and were not invested in sides, but that was surface level, what the “media” would say. In reality they were supplying each side with weapons and necessities like ammunition. All just a con job. Therefore when Grian took notice of the company now blocking his path to his forced-detour spot, a sour frown grew quickly upon his lips. 

“Cub, Scar.” Grian greeted in turn, beginning his walk up the path 

“What brings you to the shopping district tonight?” Scar hummed, fingers toying with some dust from the bag, the fine granules blowing away in the breeze.

“Checking on your own shops?” Cub mused “there haven’t been any sales, we’ve kept track.” 

“Just need rockets, that’s all.” Grian replied, glancing between the two as he passed through the space between them 

“Gonna send Mumbo in as a kamikaze next?” Cub sneered, causing a quick and curt laugh from Scar

“How’d you hear about Mumbo?” Grian turned, facing the two as the emerged from their perches onto the pathway. 

“We keep a close eye on the war, Grian.” Scar responded, walking closer to the shorter builder, hat casting sinister shadows across his expression “gotta play your cards right, know where to place your money.” 

“Oh and I’m sure you two have figured out just that.” Grian huffed, sneering up at the man who towered over him. 

Scar frowned, but was given no time to react as Cub came to his side, clapping a hand to his partner’s shoulder and smiling wide to the builder.

“Maybe so, maybe not.” Cub shrugged “still, we haven’t gotten desperate enough to risk our friends’ lives. But hey! To each their own.” 

Cub gestured with a wink to Grian, then curtly clapped Scar to the shoulder once more, and the two turned away. 

“Have a goodnight, Grian!” Cub called, as Grian stood fuming.


	2. Chapter 2

At the very least, Mumbo’s base wasn’t full of unwanted guests. Just a few scattered chickens. 

Grian sighed as he walked the long glass path, trying to calm his angry nerves. When that didn’t work he stopped in his tracks and sunk his fingers into his wind-blown hair, arching his spine and swallowing a yell. 

“God DAMMIT!” the yell escaped, the builder throwing his arms down “dammit, dammit, dammit!” 

The few chickens standing around were as startled by the outburst as the calm night was, each of the small birds scattering with a loud uproar of their own. Grian watched the birds run off through the hair that had fallen over his eyes, glaring at the poor things as if it was their fault. 

It wasn’t. It was his. 

The builder tried to collect himself once more, pushing his hair out of his face and habitually correcting the cuffs of his sleeves. The outburst left him exhausted, and he walked forward with heavy steps. 

The familiar glow of Mumbo’s base at least allowed some form of comfort as Grian dug his way through chest after chest, unsure of where his friend kept anything. Thinking on it, Grian imagined that at some point he did have a good idea of Mumbo’s storage. But his memory felt frayed, his mind scattered. It had been seven exhausting weeks that the war had been ravishing their once peaceful island. Friends turned to enemies, betrayals across these cursed “teams.” 

Frustrated with his thoughts reminding him of what he had already lost, the builder slammed the chest he was digging through, and made his way to the next one.

“Finally.” Grian grumbled hoarsely to himself, voice lodged from his sudden yell earlier 

Picking up two shirts, and two pairs of pants for good measure, Grian used his foot to close the chest and walked back along the platform. Glancing at the birds still wondering around, Grian tried to clear himself once more. With a deep breath, he took to the skies. 

“-I think that’s an understatement.” Mumbo’s voice murmured through the doorway as Grian approached, once again using his foot as a third hand to knock on the wall, announcing his arrival. 

Both Cleo and Mumbo had their eyes trained on the builder as he entered. Where as Mumbo looked slightly more cleaned up, all visual wounds cleaned and tended to, including a large wrapping around his lower chest that was exposed by his loosely worn shirt. Cleo did not look as well, not that she was under any harm, but she did not seem pleased to see Grian. 

“Iskall already gave me an earful-“ Grian tried exasperatedly, slowly placing Mumbo’s folded clothes on a nearby table. 

“Oh did he?” Cleo huffed “well I better hope he did a good job.”

“Cleo..” Mumbo tried to argue this time, his quiet plea going ignored as the woman stood quickly from her stool, marching quick steps to Grian. 

“What in the world were you thinking, huh?” Cleo accused, finger connecting to Grian’s chest. “What would you have done if they killed him huh? A ‘sorry’ or ‘it was a dumb idea’ wouldn’t cut it!” 

“Cleo, seriously.” Mumbo argued again, from his spot on the cot 

“You don’t get to defend him!” Cleo bit, anger spilling from her every movement, as she turned herself back to point at Mumbo, before just as quickly snapping back to Grian. “Do you even have any idea what you’ve done?” 

“Of course I do!” Grian argued, pushing Cleo’s hand away 

“I don’t think you do!” Cleo hissed back 

“Guys-“ Mumbo insisted 

“What do you want me to say?” Grian shouted, tears threatening the rim of his tired eyes “what do you expect me to do? It’s done now, I can’t take it back and if I could I would!” 

“I expect you to act like you know what you’re doing!” Cleo added more fuel to the flame. 

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Grian shouted “I have no fucking clue what to do with any of this, I just want it over!” 

“Enough!” Mumbo finally yelled, getting to his feet fast enough to cause a loud thud on the floor. 

The two fuming teammates stared at the wounded, still threatening despite his disadvantage. Cleo, glancing once more between the two, shoved a breath through her nose then stormed off, leaving Grian and Mumbo standing tense in the “medbay.” 

Mumbo deflated with a sigh and fell back to his cot, letting out a small groan at the strain on his bruises. 

“You okay?” Grian asked finally, voice very quiet in contrast to his yelling from moments before

“Yeah.” Mumbo swallowed with a sigh, glancing up to his friend as he wiped at his eyes “are you?” 

“Me?” Grian huffed, dropping his arms in turn for a very fake smile “ah I’m great!” 

Mumbo arched a brow at him, to which Grian only rolled his eyes. Collecting one of the new articles of clothing each, and making his way over to the stool where Cleo was previously sat. Handing the fabrics over to his friends, Mumbo murmured a small “thank you.”

“You know she’s just stressed.” Mumbo tried partially “I don’t think she meant most of it.”

“I’m supposed to be comforting you, you spoon.” Grian grinned, dark circles prominent now that he sat closer to his friend. 

Mumbo offered a small smile in turn, then let his unbuttoned shirt finally roll completely off his shoulders. Discarding the dirty garment for the cleaner one, burying his face in it for a brief moment. 

“Smells like home.” He mumbled, voice clouded by the cotton-polyester mixture pressed over his face. 

Grian smiled at the action, thoughts a bit too distant to do much towards replying as he barely noticed Mumbo shrugging the new shirt on. Home, was something Grian missed. His base he had visited a few times over the past chaotic weeks, he had slept in his bed, but his base was never much of a home to him. It was an ever evolving project, dumb ideas and silly plans. 

The island was home. Flying in on the early morning breeze, greeting those filling their shops or buying supplies for the day. Home was all the fond memories of traveling through the Nether, or getting lost on the golf course. Home was each little joke and loud laugh, each amazing build and silly discovery. 

The builder sniffled through the thoughts and pressed at his eyes once more, trying to subdue the next wave of emotions threatening to spill. 

“You okay?” Mumbo repeated, his hand coming to rest on Grian’s wrist 

“Yeah.” Grian whispered a bit, dropping his hands back down to his lap and straightening his back 

“Yeah.” He started again, clearer “I gotta be.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion is held.

“Grian.” 

The builder stirred slightly, muscles tensing as they registered the subdued temperature.

“Grian.” Someone spoke again, their body shifting as Grian registered a hand on his shoulder. As more functionality hit, he thought he recognized the infliction. 

“Joe?” Grian murmured cracking open an eye, lights and shadows dancing for a brief moment until they focused on the familiar face of his friend. 

“You are aware you’re in the basement, right?” Joe prodded, arching a brow 

Grian took the moment to sit up fully, taking a glance around as some stiff muscles popped. He had fallen asleep on the stairs..how professional. Though, being down stairs would explain the intense chill in his bones.

“I am now.” Grian replied, letting himself get pulled to his feet as Joe stood back to his full height “what time is it?” 

“Still early.” Joe nodded “Stress just switched shifts with me, and I thought to go find you after Cleo caught me up on all that happened.” 

“Oh.” Grian sighed, slightly hazy thoughts being soured quickly. Yesterday was of course why he came down to the basement anyway, unable to rest, pacing up and down. Checking supplies and then checking them again, trying to strategize and think. Last Grian recalled he was betting who was going to be the first to go when the dam finally broke.

“She was pretty upset, I’ll give ya that.” Joe gave a bit of a shrug, twirling his trident “and I can’t say I’m exactly proud either, but don’t beat yourself up too bad, okay? We’re all still in this together. All still friends.” 

“Even the other guys?” Grian mused, glancing back up to meet Joe’s eye 

Joe’s small smile faded for a moment, eyes glancing to their feet on the porcelain-white steps, trident twirling slightly. 

“I think so.” Joe nodded carefully “I think we all care about each other still. Something just got screwed up along the way.” 

Grian thought for a moment as well, only disrupted when Joe prompted him to follow him up to the control room, which kinda doubled as the base’s watch tower. It served a perfect view of the battlefield, and the opposing base. Joe hummed to himself as Grian surveyed the rising sun, foot tapping, arms folded. 

The war, despite ravishing and nerve wracking, proved to be more of a stalemate. There had only been one real skirmish, right at the start. Outside of that small attempts of infiltration, neither resulted in anything more than insult to injury. Each side was paranoid at best, scared at the worst. And what was to come of it? Was it going to be more months of a never ending back and forth. What would happen when someone is pushed too far, when the battlefield doubles as a graveyard?

“Can you go get Cleo, Stress, and Tango?” Grian spoke over Joe’s tune “I’ll wake the others. I wanna have a chat.” 

By the time the group had fully gathered in their meeting room, the morning sun was shining through the expansive windows. They all sat, some disgruntled, others bemused. The only one without a chair was of course Mumbo, who fussed with the bandage across his brow as he stood against an adjacent wall. 

“That’s all of us.” Joe remarked, having counted off the figures in the room as they murmured amongst each other “floors’ yours, G.” 

Grian glanced up, suddenly felt heavy with all eyes narrowly watching him. News spread fast in a small base, of course everyone had noticed Mumbo here. Still, he had to try, so he stood slow and let his fingers mess amongst themselves. 

“I’m guessing a lot of you think I gathered you here because of Mumbo.” Grian started curtly, glancing to his friend “and though partly true, I realized something because of my mistake..”

“This isn’t going to end well.” Grian spoke desperately, looking amongst the table “they are going to get more relentless and we are bound to as well. Soon enough we might actually lose someone.” 

“What are you calling for?” Iskall asked, arms folded 

“A surrender?” Tango filled, glancing between Grian and the rest of the team 

“No, no-“ the builder swallowed, shaking his head “I’m thinking that there’s got to be a way we can end this, something that won’t get us OR them killed.” 

“You’re trying to protect them?” Mumbo asked suddenly 

Grian swallowed his tongue, thinking that of course everyone would follow, of course they were all still pals. They had tortured Mumbo as far as Grian understood, his haphazardly shaved mustache providing enough evidence as was, so why in the world would Mumbo care for civility now? 

“They are our friends.” Joe spoke “even with all that’s going on. Y’all can’t seriously want this to end with their blood spilled.” 

“What other option do we have?” Cleo argued “this is too far gone.” 

“Maybe not.” Jevin piped up “what about a competition of sorts?”

The room fell silent, watching as Jevin stood quickly “we’ve already pandered an arms race for weeks, but neither of us have used them. Grian is right that sooner rather than later someone is going to snap.” 

“I’d say they already did.” Mumbo huffed 

“But that’s it, that’s my point exactly.” Jevin gestured, turning to face the technician 

“Pardon?” Mumbo growled, becoming increasingly dissatisfied 

“You were not only with them for a time but used by them.” Jevin spoke “you know how desperate they are. So instead of waiting for them to threaten anything further, or for us to risk anything more, we set up a competition.” 

“And you think this will work? That they’ll agree? No more blood will be shed?” Stress inquired, leaning on her elbows “it feels like a long shot.” 

“It’s all we got.” Grian finally added “we have to at least try.” 

Silence bestowed itself upon the crowd once more, only disrupted by Mumbo leaving the room with a quiet murmur under his breath. Eyes shifted, the tone in the room was different. Some false sense of hope present within the desperation. 

“Well,” Iskall sighed, leaning forward as well “what kind of competition were you thinking?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grian begins to fragment

“Three flags each?” Stress murmurs 

“Three flags each.” Grian echos 

The meeting room had subconsciously become a huddled colamorate. All of G-team stood anxiously around the head of the table, staring down at the book Grian had before him, his quill tapping nervously on the table. They had been planning for long enough that the sun now floated heavy at its peak, breaking through the sparse clouds to illuminate the crowd. 

“I hate to say it but it could work.” Tango mused from where he had perched himself on the actual table.

“It’s still insanely risky, even with the implied rules.” Jevin spoke as well, tapping his chin

“Getting cold feet? This was your idea.” Iskall huffed from across the table, holding a container of dye similar to Cleo’s as the two made a mock-up flag

“No, no” Jevin sighed, moving his hand to push back his hair “it’s just..I don’t know, I don’t want anyone else getting hurt..”

“Jevin’s got a point, y’all-“ Joe began “given the current circumstances there’s no beleivin’ that we have the upper hand. Our bases and teams are matched. Say that they agree to this ‘Capture The Flag’ they obviously aren’t afraid to hurt us so that they have the upper hand.”

“We fight back? Tango furrowed his brow, though his expression screamed concern for the elephant in the room that was his friend upon the opposing team. 

“No we out smart.” Joe countered “We’ve been lucky enough to have happened across someone who knows their base just as well as they do.”

“Mumbo.” The room murmured, all eyes looking to the empty corner of the room 

Grian watched his feet trail slightly behind Iskall’s as they walked down the solid halls of their base. The two had been sent to find their missing technician, under the guise that Mumbo trusted them the most. Grian would’ve argued that Mumbo’s trust in him was well overspent, but his mind felt weak, it had for longer than he could recall. So he simply rose to his feet and followed Iskall out, leaving the others to continue ironing out the plan. 

Grian glanced up, meeting Iskall’s eyes staring back down at him, an unimpressed expression written all over his face.

“Stop looking like a kicked puppy.” The Swede grumbled, rubbing a spot of dried dye between his fingers 

“Sorry.” Grian spoke shortly, lowering his eyes again 

It was a few more steps of silence before Iskall let out a quite exasperated sigh, placing his gloved hand upon Grian’s shoulder to force the blonde to turn to him. 

“Look, Grian-“ he sighed “I’m not happy with you, I don’t think anyone in the entire island is.”

“Thanks…” Grian drew out at the pause

“But..you were trying to help, and you never forced Mumbo to do anything, I get that..” Iskall sighed, taking his hand back and shoving it into his sweatshirt’s pocket “And now, what happened may help us win, and it might get things back to normal.” 

“Even if it does help us-if he helps us,” Grian gestured down the hall “I still got him hurt. It’s impossible for me to live with that.” 

It was true, the weight-even if still brand new-was beginning to push Grian so far down he felt as if he’d sink through the floor and simply fall forever. Ever since he even reached out to Mumbo, saying that the war was unavoidable, and they needed his help. It was Mumbo who laughed slightly, twirling an edge of his mustache between his fingers. 

‘Alright.’ Mumbo had said all those weeks ago “but I’m only doing this for you.”

Then Grian sent him off, just like that. Grian was so damn foolish for thinking it could work. Mumbo had trusted every word he pandered towards him, and where had that got him now? It was a miracle in itself that Grian managed to hold his composure at all when Scar hand delivered the letter from Doc. He didn’t know how his knees didn’t give out the moment Ren tossed Mumbo towards him. He didn’t know how he managed to ignore the blossoming pain in his chest until he was alone in the basement, screaming into his own hands until he woke up cold and questioned by Joe. He really wasn’t sure how he wasn’t dead. 

“Then when this happens you’re going to stay.” Iskall stated, snapping Grian out from his racing thoughts 

“What?” Grian jumped, senses returning to him 

“If they agree, when this starts you’re going to stay here, play defensive instead of offensive.” Iskall continued, removing one of his hands from his pocket to gesture at the building around them 

“How will that help-“ Grian began to argue before being cut off by Iskall’s suddenly raised tone

“Because if you’re out there you’re going to act recklessly.” The Swede snapped “you’ll get yourself hurt, or worse, and despite what you’re thinking that won’t help anyone here.”

Grian shoulders deflated at the confrontation, sinking into himself to avoid seeing the truth. Despite addressing it himself, he was fairly sure he wasn’t being that obvious. Sure, Joe must’ve been confused to find him on the stairs. But was Grian truly such a mess when he and Mumbo returned yesterday, that Iskall managed to read him like an open book?

“It’s written all over you, dude..” Iskall continued after a moment, voice softer, near a whisper. “We all have already been split up, then we nearly lost Mumbo, and I really don’t want to lose you either.”

Grian nodded in a subdued manner, placing his own hands under their opposite arms to try and cope with the exposure of his wrecked mental state. It didn’t matter much in the coming moments, for Iskall closed the small gap between them and hugged the shorter builder to his chest. Grian unwound his arms at the intimacy and graciously returned the hug, burrowing into the soft fabric of his friend’s sweatshirt. 

“I want this over.” Grian stated, not sure from where the thought came from, but allowing it to be subdued by Iskall’s warmth either way

“If this goes to plan it will be.” Iskall spoke, squeezing Grian a bit more before leaning back, allowing the blonde to regain enough confidence to meet his friend’s eye “I’m getting real tired of False’s taunts.” 

Grian let out a small laugh at the jab, unable to keep it down if he tried, which in turn made the Swede giggle as well. Something felt a bit more lighthearted knowing that Iskall at least understood how Grian felt. But nonetheless, the blonde would be dammed if he sat still when this game truly began. 

They eventually found Mumbo suspiciously out in the middle of the land between their bases. Standing just outside the area in which their old truce flag once stood. Back then G-Team had most certainly hoped that the rumored “fight” that was coming would never happen. They were hoping that as they met at the flag, both teams would agree to call it off. But Doc was stoic if nothing else, and even if he too wanted the war to stop there, he stood unwavering and confident as he and Grian discussed under the flag. Then the flag blew up, and their first skirmish began. Grian clearly recalled the violent ringing in his ears and the warmth trickle of blood coating his lips as he watched Cub flee the battlefield. No one else had spotted the ConVex fleeing, everyone amongst each other thought the other team had committed the atrocity. And thus began the hell they found themselves in. 

“Er-it’s not very smart to be out here” Iskall spoke as the two teammates got in range of the technician. 

“They won’t come near.” Was Mumbo’s response, tone flat as he kept his back to the approaching. 

“You certain?” Iskall prompted, unintentionally leaving Grian behind as he stood next to Mumbo. Meanwhile the builder felt himself stop without meaning too, and familiar panic coated his lungs. 

“They talked about it all the time.” Mumbo began, pausing for a brief sigh “before they found out that is.” 

With that statement Mumbo turned over his shoulder, quickly catching Grian’s nervous eye. Though Mumbo had looked strange without his mustache, a five-o-clock shadow had already began to adhere to his features, though this did nothing to sugarcoat the exhausted glare that was through Grian’s way. 

Satisfied with his stance, Mumbo turned back to face Team Star’s base, shifting his stance just slightly and sticking his folded arms into his pant pockets. Yet Grian stood still, eyes burning, chest somehow further constricting. 

“As irritated as I am, I can’t lie and say they’re blood thirsty.” Mumbo began a new thought “they want this war over as much as you all seem to. I’m just not sure they’re willing to take the same precautions. 

Grian didn’t miss the way Mumbo grabbed at his damaged chest with his statement. As the two had talked the night before, Mumbo mentioned, that according to Cleo’s diagnosis, a singular rib was broken. He had already downed a potion of healing, and after some dull aching, the bone was repaired. But still, the muscles were deeply bruised, and he’d probably be wearing that binding for the next week. 

“That’s.” Mumbo huffed, turning on his heel fully “why I can’t understand why you want to protect them!” 

Grian stood dormant as the technician marched down the small hill, Iskall turning to watch whatever may unfold. 

“I thought I knew how you felt, thought I could trust that this was going to be the right thing.” Mumbo accused, now a mere foot away from the builder “but after all this? Even after I defended you from Cleo. I’m not sure you give a single shit about what they did to me.”

Grian had been irrationally stunned the moment he was in range of Mumbo, but now he felt his entire self go rigid. From the soles of his feet to the smallest whispers of his thoughts, he felt everything spiral, and if he wasn’t choking on his own breath than he was sure he would scream. And he nearly did, when Iskall knocked him out of whatever trance he fell into. 

And fell into he had. Iskall was knelt before him, concern washed over his features, and much to Grian’s surprise, Mumbo wasn’t standing far away either, and he looked stricken with shock. The builder blinked, coming to focus on his hysterical breathes, and the dull pain in his rear from where he had presumably fallen. 

“Grian-“ Iskall repeated his name, a cautious hand hovering near the builder’s chest 

The blonde moved his eyes wildly from the earth to Iskall’s worried expression, taking it in for only a moment before he scampered to his feet, and took off running. He ignored the call of his name and fetched a few rockets from his pack. Panic be dammed, he had business to attend to.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy. Hi, for anyone who reads this. I've been writing for about as long as I've been drawing but I can't say my skills are on par between the two hobbies. Either way, this is all meant to be fun. I have nothing against any of the hermits, the only reason this is framed from Grian's perspective is due to the fact that he's the perspective I've viewed thus far in Hermitcraft season 6...  
> Anyway, for those who recognize the username....hi  
> for those who are new, you can find my hermitcraft blog under the name Block-Vulpes on Tumblr.


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